For seven years I have felt a specific call to California. On July 1, 2018 I will finally land in Costa Mesa, California to begin my journey with Circuit Riders (a branch of YWAM); attending a 3-week leadership intensive specifically focusing on worship and leadership. I believe God has called me even further to participate with Circuit Riders’ National Carry the Love Tour, a certified YWAM DTS (Discipleship Training School) beginning October 1, 2018 to April 30, 2019.
With the CTL Tour I will be trained beyond the music track. Our DTS is divided into 4 elements of training: leadership emersion, Biblical study, skill-set activation, and engaging a true missional mobile lifestyle. I will be stretched, challenged to grow and further cultivate a deeper knowledge and understanding of scripture through Biblical studies. During training, I will be traveling to hundreds of campuses empowering students through worship and ministry. This is a big leap of faith. But I believe God has called me specifically to CR and I am willing and ready to follow.
Would you prayerfully consider in partnering with me in pursuing worship completely?
Total Tuition Cost: $4650
$650-- August 15, 2018; registration fee to secure spot, first month’s rent
$2500-- September 21, 2018; lecture fee and housing
$1500-- December 15, 2018; tour fee
This does not include food and flight (to CR Base in Huntington Beach beginning tour, returning flight during Christmas break, and final flight back to CR Base) costs.
For more information on Circuit Riders’ history, mission, outreach plan, or to bring our CTL team to your highschool or college campus please visit www.carrythelove.com!!!
I believe it is important to share the level of support you all have provided, beyond fundraising and tuition, but sharing my heart for worship and ministry. On June 18th God challenged me to share a journal entry of jumbled thoughts regarding my fears in this new season and the depth of my love and passion for worship, showing my heart completely unfiltered in a way I have never done before. I pray these words touch your heart as they are the expression of my own. Given many of us are limited on time, the words from the entry are below, so we can cut right to the chase from the get-go of this campaign.
Thank you for your continual prayers, encouragement, and support. I cannot fully express how grateful I am. From the bottom of my heart, thank you.
Love, Chrissy (John 12:3)
Music is my entire life. Music has gone to the depths of my soul where no one else has ever reached. It has given me the ability to cry and scream and shout and express the things that I don’t always have the right words to say. Sometimes you can spend an entire hour on one sentence and it still doesn’t sound right. There’s still something missing. Sometimes it feels like it might just be a comma, maybe... if I pause here that will make it sound right. But that’s still not it. Sometimes it just seems like the words aren’t blending right, maybe… if I find another way to say it, it will finally sound right. And that’s still not it. But with music, that doesn’t happen. There’s something about a melody or just holding out a note or a word that just makes sense. It does something.
My first solo was in pre-school. I remember what it felt like. I remember what the room smelled like. I remember what the mic felt like in my hand. I remember everything. I sang I Have Decided to Follow Jesus. My parents sat in the second row, four seats to the right, on the left-hand side. My aunt had her silver video camera out. My mom was crying. I remember telling my music teacher I didn’t need help. She didn’t have to stand up front and tell me the words because I knew it. I pulled the mic up straight to my face and pushed my shoulders back like I had been doing this for years. I wasn’t scared.
My first piano solo was in pre-school. I remember what it felt like. I remember exactly what it smelled like. I remember what the keys felt like. I remember looking at the sheet music in front of me. I told my piano teacher I didn’t need the music, I had it memorized. And I took the music off the stand. I wore a yellow dress my mom said I wore too much. It had a white collar and a pink flower in the center. It was my favorite dress and I wore it for every special event. The piano faced the back wall so I didn’t see anyone’s face. I didn’t really want to. The piano made me a little nervous. But I fixed my dress, pushed my shoulders back, and started at middle C. I wasn’t scared.
When I turned 16, I reached the point where I felt completely suffocated and alone. Kind of like being in a wide open field but still not being able to breathe right. It’s confusing. And terrifying. No one was home. I went to the piano and set up a small mirror on the right corner facing the main window. I pushed the seat back and fixed my hoodie. I didn’t know what I was going to play, I just knew I had to. I started at middle C. I started to hit the keys and cry. I don’t know what I played, but somehow the notes sounded EXACTLY like my heart felt. I kept hitting them and it felt like I didn’t have to be quiet anymore because somehow the music could talk for me. No one heard me but I felt like it really didn’t matter if anyone did. Because maybe, because of the music, someone would get it. I played the piano from pre-school. That is the piano I have at home. That is the piano where I started to sing, I started to play, and I started to let myself feel things and finally get it out.
There’s something about music that touches a part of me that nothing else can get to. There’s something about a melody that can say things that I really don’t have the right words to say. There’s something about worship that touches a part of my heart that no one else can get to. There’s something about singing four simple words “Jesus, we love you” that starts to unlock a piece of me that only God can touch. Maybe that’s why I hold it so close. It’s the absolute deepest part of me that I am so deathly afraid to lose. I’m so terrified to show it and I’m so terrified to have criticized. Because if that part of me, is lost or torn to shreds, it feels like there really isn’t much left. That’s me. Worship is me. That’s it.
Music started it. Music is where it began… somewhere between pre-school dresses and microphones and somewhere starting on middle C. But it’s so much more than music now. It’s so much more than hitting keys because somewhere in middle C is where it’s okay for me to let myself feel things. It’s so much more than that. ALL of my music is worship. It isn’t just a small part of my heart anymore, it’s my soul.
Sometimes I like to think that God doesn’t just know us by name, He knows us by sound. I like to think that each person has a special melody. And maybe when we get together on Sundays or even when two or more people are gathered together, we could be doing anything at all and there is a new sound being created. Somehow there is a new melody of worship that only God hears. Sometimes I like to think we get a little glimpse of that, a little taste of it when someone listens hard enough and gets a new worship song. Maybe that’s why everything we do is worship. Not just because of the action, but because WE (our names) are melodies. Without music on a Sunday morning, if it were just a silent room full of people, I still think God would hear worship. I believe He would hear music. He would hear something so beautiful that we can’t even imagine.
I want to hear that. I want THAT music.
I believe that music, specifically worship, can touch a part of my soul that nothing else can. But I think that my soul is music. My soul is worship. My soul is a melody. I want to find that. I want to find it and hold it and never ever ever let it go. I think that’s the closest to God I can ever get. I want to find the melody He sings over me. I want to find the melody He calls me by.
My mom used to hum a song every night before I fell asleep. Something about the way her voice sounded, just sounded safe. Eventually, I would curl up closer and closer and closer. I would hear her hum, and I would get so close I would lay down and hear her heart beat too. I want that with God. I don’t want to just hear this hum, this melody, this sound and lay down in the corner by myself. I want to get closer and closer and closer and hear His heart beat too. I want to know music and I want to know worship on a level that God created it to be. I want that. I don’t want to lose that either. That’s why I’m scared.
I don’t want to go to California and have a list of expectations. That MAYBE what people are saying is true. That MAYBE God has something big for me there and it has to do with worship. I don’t want to be excited because I don’t want to be disappointed. I don’t want to be disappointed in myself. And I don’t want to be disappointed with God. I don’t want to stop wanting to get closer and lose myself in the process. I don’t want to stop wanting worship because I’m afraid that this isn’t what I thought it was going to be. I don’t want to disappoint the One I love more than life itself. I can’t disappoint God. And if worship is my whole heart, and it’s not enough, if my sound is not enough, if I don’t find those melodies… I don’t want to disappoint the One I love more than anything.
Music is my life. And somehow between yellow dresses and out of tune piano keys and standing mirrors up in the corner while I hit the keys louder and louder and louder and let the music shout for me… somehow… this turned into worship. And this is me. I need this. I want this more than anything.
God, I don’t want to disappoint you. I know you tell me I won’t because I can’t. But I don’t want to give you something that isn’t all of me. If I put all of me into worship, if I continue to give you all of me in song, and it isn’t right, if I go to California and you send me right back here, I will follow you anywhere. But I don’t want to lose this. If California isn’t it, I’m afraid I will lose it. I’m afraid of being disappointed, of only being sent for the purpose of something else. I’m afraid it isn’t worship. I don’t want to be afraid anymore. Because if worship is all of me, and that’s not it… then why the heck am I even here to begin with? I don’t understand. And I’m trying to. I’m really really trying. But sometimes I wish I were pushing my shoulders back and shoving a microphone in the middle of my face and wearing a pretty yellow dress instead of sitting in my bed every night wondering what is so special about me. I don’t understand. I don’t want to say you messed up, because you don’t. You never have and you never will. But if you called me to worship, I don’t see what I could possibly give you that is so special. Maybe I’m talking too much or maybe I need to stop saying the same things over and over and over again. But they’re in my head over and over and over again.
I want to worship you. And I want to serve you. And if you send me ANYWHERE I promise I will go in a heartbeat. That is all I need to tell you. Because that is the best response I could give you. You have given me everything. So even if I woke up one morning and I were completely deaf and I couldn’t hear music anymore, even if I woke up and could never speak and I couldn’t sing anymore, even if I woke up and couldn’t move my fingers and I could never play anymore, you would still be enough. I would still go anywhere you call me. Even if I didn’t have music, I would still worship you.
I promise, I would still worship.